The Ones We Love
I dip my toes into the frigid water, letting the chill work its way through my body.
Dirt spirals off my feet, forming murky clouds in the otherwise clear lake.
I’ve lost track of time, but if I had to guess, it’s been maybe a week.
I have barely slept, spending most of each day walking in circles.
No matter which direction I choose, all paths lead back here, to the lake.
Not a single plane has flown overhead, not a solitary hiker passed by.
Every night ends the same way the morning began—just me and the wilderness.
I draw in a breath, air expanding my lungs until they ache, and then I scream.
Birds shoot from the trees, scattering as my cry echoes across the watery abyss.
They’re the only ones who hear me. No one comes running to my rescue.
No search team barges through the trees, chattering excitedly about finding me alive.
Maybe no one’s looking. I have to consider the possibility, because why would they?
Before I packed a bag for my trip into the mountains of Hellsmouth Woods, I turned off my phone, setting it neatly on my nightstand without a message or call to anyone.
In that moment, I didn’t want them to find me—or remind me of the lingering dread waiting for me in my empty home.
When I close my eyes, I can still hear the door slamming behind Charlotte.
Of the few people who might wonder where I am, she’s definitely not one.
The sun dips below the horizon, casting a deep orange glow that burns across the sky.
The temperature will drop soon too. I need to build a fire before the cold sets in, but my legs protest any attempt to stand.
Despite knowing better, I sit a little longer, watching the last shred of daylight fade away.
I nod as I try to stay awake, but my head snaps to attention as a shadow appears from the trees across the way.
I blink, trying to bring the figure into focus.
There’s a femininity to its movements, a gracefulness, but its body is too long, too thin to be human.
Antlers stretch from where its head should be, but deer don’t walk on two legs.
The shadow spins over the shoreline like it’s dancing to a melody I can’t hear.
Maybe if I close my eyes, I’ll hear the song too, but when I open them again, the figure is gone.
My stomach heaves, juices sloshing around until I’m nauseous, reminding me I haven’t eaten yet today.
I shuffle back to my campsite, grabbing my backpack before sitting on a fallen tree trunk.
There’s not much left of my meager supplies besides a half-eaten protein bar I’ve been portioning, the pieces growing smaller each day.
I break off a tiny piece with my teeth, letting the chewy glob roll around my mouth like I can fool myself into thinking it’s more.
The morsel scratches my dry throat before hitting my gut like a stone.
My stomach growls at the pathetic offering.
When I’m sure my body won’t reject what little I’ve given it, I slide down the tree trunk, sighing as my sore tailbone hits the ground.
I’m fairly confident it’s broken after the fall I took off the trail, the reason I wound up lost to begin with.
It’s just another problem I haven’t tried to deal with.
Like most things, I’m hoping if I ignore the issue entirely, it will cease to exist—like constantly bickering with Charlotte.
My eyelids sink like lead weights, but I don’t fight them. I can’t decide whether I’m unwilling or unable to keep them open, but the outcome is the same. One night without a fire will be fine, I convince myself as I curl into a ball in the dirt.
“Shiloh.”
My name comes like static, as though it’s breaking through the white noise of a radio between stations. My eyes drift open only enough to see it’s still dark out.
“Shiloh.”
Crackling comes from behind me, branches breaking and leaves crunching. Footsteps, possibly, but they’re uneven, too far apart. My breathing stills, straining to focus on the noise.
“Shiloh.”
My heart stutters in my chest like a stalling engine, muscles winding so tight, I’m afraid I might burst from the pressure. I’m dreaming, I have to be—or hallucinating; either is possible at this point.
“Shiloh,” the voice croaks again in a tone that’s all wrong, like several voices in unison but none of them human.
Sweat rolls down my temple and over my nose, a drop catching on one nostril.
Pressure builds in my sinuses, threatening to turn into a sneeze.
Pain radiates through my chest as I try to hold still, fighting to stay silent.
The sneeze forces its way through anyway, burning my throat and nasal passages before exploding out of me.
A hiccupped sob follows. I curl tighter into myself, hoping there’s even a small chance whatever is out here didn’t hear it.
“Soon.” The voice is inside my head. Hot breath fans across my cheek. My body trembles, eyes closed and limbs paralyzed.
A breeze washes over me, goosebumps erupting across my skin even underneath my layers of clothes. My thoughts spin, scrambling for a plan of escape. Before I’m able to act, as quickly as the overwhelming presence appeared, it’s gone.
My stomach rumbles and my lightheadedness returns. I spring forward on hands and knees without opening my eyes, reaching for my backpack and the remaining bit of protein bar. Tears roll down my cheeks as I shove what’s left into my mouth.
I don’t dare move again until the sun is high, stinging my unprotected face and roasting me inside my jacket.
The light reflects off the lake, blinding me as my eyelids flutter open.
It takes a moment for my muscles to loosen enough for me to sit up, legs aching as I stretch them in front of me.
I mentally run through the events of last night, trying to make sense of them.
Surely, there’s a logical explanation: stress, hunger, infection, even something as simple as a nightmare—but it felt so real.
When I turn around, any thought of the event being conjured by my imagination disappears. A pile of berries sits on the log between me and my tent. My supplies are in shambles, strewn about the campsite like someone was searching for something.
My mouth waters as I gaze longingly at the fruit. I pick one up, squeezing its plump, deep purple flesh. They’re freshly picked, still wet with morning dew. I roll the berry between my fingers, weighing my options. They could be poisonous, but my stomach doesn’t care—and I’m not sure I do either.
“Fuck it,” I mumble, tossing it into my mouth. The berry bursts, coating my tongue in bittersweet juice. I eat another, then another, ravenously stuffing my face until the entire pile is gone. With a full stomach and sticky hands, I lie down to wait, deciding if I die, at least I won’t die hungry.
My stomach gurgles, finally satiated, but nothing else happens.
I sigh, resorting to cleaning up my destroyed campsite instead of waiting to be poisoned.
Clothes are everywhere, but at least they’re not shredded, and neither is the tent.
I pick up my windbreaker, and my heart stops.
Footprints—too long and slender to be human—trail through the dirt.
The more I stare, the more appear, like whatever was here last night paced around for hours.
There’s so many, they almost blend into each other, weaving through the dirt in circular trails.
I scan the tree line, pulse drumming in my ears.
Could it still be watching me? Were the berries a trap?
Waves of nausea wash over me. The way it called my name, choking on the syllables as if its tongue struggled to form them, plays in my head like a broken record.
The intense need to get away from here, out of the open, consumes me.
I haphazardly pack everything I can fit in my backpack and sprint towards the woods.
There’s a chance I’ll become even more lost, but I can’t stay here.
The stories about Hellsmouth Woods bloom in the forefront of my mind. My friends—
when I still had them—and I used to laugh about all the wild stories we’d hear at the roadhouse near the trailhead: people disappearing, terrifying creatures lurking between trees, bloodthirsty cults. They don’t seem so far-fetched now; they feel more like warnings.
I head down an overgrown trail I haven’t explored yet.
Based on the overgrowth of vines and bramble, no one has been on it in years.
It’s doubtful I’ll find help at the end, but if the path takes me far from here, it’s the best option I have.
I let out a long exhale, shaking my limbs out before committing myself fully.
I’ve already wasted enough time on the well-marked paths with no success, so what do I have to lose?
Dusk creeps in, sapping daylight well before it feels like I should.
The deeper I go into the woods, the more silent it becomes, like every noise is shut out by an invisible wall.
My body tingles, numb, as though my senses are shutting off one by one.
Panic blooms in my chest, each breath taking more energy to complete.
Cold sweat drenches my body, soaking a chill into my bones.
Eventually, there’s a break in the trees, and I step into a small clearing.
A long- abandoned cabin takes up most of the space with its dilapidated wrap-around porch.
Weeds thread through the remaining gravel of a driveway, a fallen tree cutting it off at the edge of the clearing.
Stones crunch under my boots as I make my way to the cabin, avoiding the debris of rotten wood and broken glass.
“Hello?” I call, voice shaking. “Is anyone there?”